


Shirt

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: "Is that my shirt?" and "You're getting crumbs all over my bed."





	Shirt

“Is that my shirt?”

Caught. Red. Handed. He drops the item and it crumples on the bed upending a small plate.

“And now you’re getting crumbs over my bed.”

Her fingers open and close around her hips. She’s pissed. Like real pissed. Daggoo whimpers and slinks out. Her gaze follows him as he trots through the door but Mulder’s relief at being removed from her death stare is short-lived. She swings back round, takes a sharp breath in and blows out through her nostrils.

“What the hell, Mulder? I can’t leave you for five minutes without you making a mess. I’m out there, working and you’re in here watching…” she swipes the remote from his hand and switches off the tv, “Catfish, and using my shirt to…” She drops the remote. “To what, Mulder? What were you doing with it? In fact, you know what? I don’t need to know. Just…just…fuck it.”

He knows this rage. It morphs into…and he’s ready for it. She licks her lips, sweeps her eyes up and down his naked torso. Kicking off her shoes, unzipping her skirt, she begins to unbutton her blouse but Mulder holds up his hand. “No. Don’t, Scully.”

Her head tilts, fingers still clasped around the small pearl at the collar.

“Leave it on,” he says and a shiver brushes up his spine.

A glimmer of a smile pulls at her lips and she crawls up the bed. He lifts the plate and deposits it on the bedside table, all the while watching the dark shadow between her breasts getting nearer.

“What were you eating, Mulder?” Her voice washes over him as she straddles his lap. Even through the duvet she must feel him. He doesn’t answer because she’s kissing him, arms slung around his neck, pelvis grinding. “Bagels,” she says.

“Real cream cheese,” he adds, trying for light but the words are wedged in his throat and he barely rasps them out.

“Tasty?” she asks, wriggling so that the bedding slips away from between them. He lifts his butt, pins her by her hips, writhes against the slim, slick barrier of her panties.

“Very,” he says. He runs his hands up her sides, following the grooves of her rib cage until moving backwards to unhook her bra and claim his prize. Her nipples are taut and she gasps at his touch.

“Mulder,” she growls, “what were you doing with my shirt?”

He unbuttons the top three pearls and plunges down, licking the warm skin between her breasts. She rocks and rolls harder over him and his nerve endings skitter and snap. He bunches the sides in one hand, lifting the shirt higher, revealing the beauty of her. He takes a nipple in his mouth and she lets her head fall back as he suspends her upper body on the weight of her blouse. There’s a slight give, an almost silent ripping. She giggles and he releases her with a wet pop.

“Off, now.” It’s a command and he doesn’t ignore Scully’s commands.

She wiggles her shoulders, arms pressing her breasts together, as he lifts the blouse high over her head, dropping it to the floor. She takes him in one hand slides the gusset of her underwear across, guiding him in. Heat, wet heat, suctions him, and the fabric digs into his shaft creating additional, delicious friction. He braces his hands either side of his hips as she rides him. Her knees meet his fingertips, her breasts crush against his chest, her hair tickles the sides of his face, as their rhythm builds.

“Fuck, Scully,” he says as the pressure grows.

“Yeah, Mulder. You do that.” Her hands clasp his shoulders and she increases her pace.

“There was a comma,” he insists but he’s completely at her mercy.

“But no pause,” she adds, before going quiet.

He loves that silence. Hot, dramatic. Then she gasps as her climax runs through her.

He follows quickly, shuddering to an almost painful release. Somewhere in the house, Daggoo howls and Mulder thinks, same, buddy, same, but he’s too exhausted to even laugh.

Later, after a long, hot shower together, he makes more bagels and feeds them to her. Crumbs drop down her front, nestle in the strip of hair between her legs. He looks. She looks. He grins. She grins.

“Go on, then.” It’s a command. And he doesn’t ignore Scully’s commands.

She tastes divine. And it doesn’t take long for her to explode.

“Fuck, Mulder.”

“Yes please,” he says, covering her quivering body with his. “No pause.”


End file.
